


Writings on the Wall is What Brought Me to You

by non_stop_feels



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: "cool kid" ryan, Alternate Universe - High School, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Minor Violence, POV Third Person, Religion, Slow Burn, Underage Sex, lots of fluff, nerdy brendon, pep band
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-12-18 06:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18243824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/non_stop_feels/pseuds/non_stop_feels
Summary: Hey, is this Brendan Urie? Regardless, someonewrote your number on one of the stalls in the boysbathroom by the lunch room. Just thought youshould knowCurrently on hiatus





	1. Chapter 1

Brendon POV 

 

Brendon walks into school the same as everyday. He passes by crowds, going mostly unnoticed except to a few that either stare or make comments within their little groups. He gets to his locker and begins grabbing his books and things out for his first few classes and loads them into his book bag, same as usual.

He shuts the slim door and locks it, then heads off to his first class of the morning. He enters the empty classroom and finds his seat at the back of the room. He sits down and drops his bag beside him, then takes out his things for the lesson and waits alone. 

Around 15 minutes later, a few kids and the teacher begin to pool in and make quiet conversations as Brendon remains on his own, sitting and mentally reviewing the new song they had learned in pep band the week prior. 

The bell soon rings signaling the beginning of class. Seconds later, none other than Pete Wentz walks in and takes his seat in front of Brendon, seemingly not even caring the annoyed look from the teacher as she marks him tardy. Brendon can't help but stare at the back of Pete's head. He had found him attractive as of late and spent most of the class staring. Little did he know, Pete had taken notice and didn't find the action endearing, but rather annoying and had decided to humor himself. 

Around the end of class, Pete turns around in his seat and looks at Brendon with a smirk. Brendon's sexuality had been public knowledge since eighth grade when Audrey Kitching had outed him when he turned her down for a date. She moved away before high school began, but the bullying stayed around, actually, and had increased greatly. Brendon would be lying if he said the sneers, giggles, and pointing at him didn't bother him anymore. He could only defend himself so much before giving up and accepting that this was his high school career: being the school's punching bag.

He feels eyes on him and looks up to lock eyes with Pete. He begins to get flustered out of nerves, wondering what Pete could possibly want with him. 

Pete's smirk grew to show teeth, “Brendon, I'm going to cut to the chase here. I know you like me, it obvious when you can't take your eyes off me everyday. I don't blame you, I know I'm attractive, but staring isn't polite.” Brendon becomes a bit scared, having been confronted so matter of factly. “So, my point is, give me your number so I can take you out. You can stare at my face all night.” Pete offers, trying to seem sweet yet enticing. 

Brendon just stares for a second, at a loss for words before scribbling down his number and passing it the older boy in front of him. Pete takes the number and smiles as he pockets it. “Thanks, baby. Might give you a call.” He winks, then turns back around, leaving a confused and red faced Brendon. 

The period that follows, Brendon begins getting calls from numbers he doesn't recognize. He answers one in between passing period with a soft hello. The caller just laughs, calls him a cock sucker and hangs up. He sighs and heads to the next class and mutes his notifications as more calls and texts try to come through.

Ryan POV 

 

Ryan wanders into the restroom during passing period. He walks to the low set sinks and looks at himself in the mirror, running his finger through his short, shaggy hair, trying to make his curls appear more fluffy. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots writing scrawled down on the door of one of the stalls. He turns and walks over to find, “ call Urie the fag” above a phone number initialed with P.W. at the end. He sighs in anger and takes a picture of the evidence then types the number printed in black sharpie into his phone. He texts who he is assumes is named Brendan from what he remembers based on the last name, and lets him know what had been done. He attaches the picture to the message and presses send. He then grabs a sharpie from his own bag and crosses out the numbers and writing the best he can.

Ryan:  
Hey, is this Brendan Urie? Regardless, someone  
wrote your number on one of the stalls in the boys  
bathroom by the lunch room. Just thought you  
should know *attached file*

 

Brendon POV

 

Brendon manages to make it through his morning classes without much harassment and walks to his locker. He puts his unneeded books away and grabs what's needed for the rest of the day, along with his lunch bag. He then wanders the common area before retreating to his usual spot in the doorway of an unused classroom at the end of the main hall. He takes off his backpack and sets it down before sitting down cross legged. He pulls out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and begins to eat. 

He tries to mentally prepare to see the seemingly hundreds of texts in his inbox. The nervous teen opens the most recent one and is met with a shit post of slurs. He clicks back to his message log and scrolls through, reading the little bits of messages underneath the unknown numbers. Towards the middle, he reads the beginning of a message that seems somehow less malice filled than the rest. He decides to open it.

Unknown number:  
Hey, is this Brendan Urie? Regardless, someone  
wrote your number on one of the stalls in the boys  
bathroom by the lunch room. Just thought you  
should know *attached file*

At first, he's slightly annoyed with the misspelling of his name, but that quickly melts away once he reaches the end of the text. He looks at the attachment and cringes, recognizing it as Pete's handwriting, the initials in the corner just confirming it. An overwhelming feeling of disappointment fills his chest as realization hits that he was tricked and now suffering the consequences. 

Knowing that having a breakdown at school over his “crush” being nothing more than another bully doesn't seem like the best situation, he digs through his backpack and pulls out his earbuds. He manages to quickly untangle them and connect them to his phone, opening Spotify and pressing play on one of his playlists. He pops the little nubs in his ears and leans against the door. Taking a deep breath, starting to relax, he pulls out a small scrap of paper and rolls it in between his finger.

A few minutes later, he goes back to his phone and reopens the message from before and reread it a few times. He decides he should probably thank who ever it was for actually caring to tell him. He thinks for a minute before finally deciding to just do a simple correction of his name and say thank you, nothing over complicated.

Brendon:  
It's Brendon, actually. But, thanks  
for telling me. I kind of already  
figured it out. Been getting  
texts all morning

He places his phone back down and continues his lunch.

Ryan POV

 

Sitting with his feet up on a table in the library, Ryan plays a word game on his phone. As he completes yet another level, a notification appears from the number he had set as ‘Brendan’. He taps on the message and within seemingly a second, it's open. He reads over it and can't help but frown at Brendon's response. He quickly responds.

 

Ryan:  
I'm really sorry that happened  
to you I may not know you  
well, but you don't deserve  
all the shit you get. Best  
to just block the numbers  
without reading anything  
those assholes sent you.

He really doesn't know much about Brendon besides that they're in the same environmental science class and that he's gay, or that’s what he’s heard some say. He tries to think of anything else notable, but can't think of anything, realizing he's never really given the teen more than a passing glance. He takes his feet off the table as he fixes Brendon's contact and waits for another response from the boy. 

Another notification appears, but this time from Ryan’s current girlfriend Keltie, if anyne could even really call her that. He had unashamedly been with quite a few individuals throughout high school up to the current, none of which had ever lasted longer than two months. It isn’t that he gets bored easily or likes to start over again and again with a new relationship, but he’s yet to find someone that continues keep him fully interested in all aspects. Sure, he may find them attractive at the start, but finally breaking down their barriers to only find a mediocre person is seemingly a waste of his time, no matter how hot he or she may happen to be. He learned the hard way freshman year that it’s not worth it to continue with someone not on the same level in terms of interests or thought process just because they’re hot. Dating a junior girl that year who only cared about her looks and social media drove him nearly over the edge. He was lucky enough to not have to break up with her solely for her personality, but that she cheated on him with a senior boy.

He swipes away the notification from Keltie and makes a mental note to maybe respond later. He pockets his phone and stands, venturing over to the shelves nearby and beginning to lazily scan the titles. His phone vibrates within the front pocket of his tight, black jeans. Ryan fishes it out and quickly unlocks it. He opens the newest text from Brendon.

Brendon:  
I read a few already but no more.  
Just going to delete anymore texts  
that i get. Besides you maybe.  
Who are you exactly?

Another frown paints his thin lips, thinking about what horrible things Brendon had been sent for no reason whatsoever. He could never fully comprehend the gratification that came with shitting on someone for simply being themselves, or how those being targeted must feel. The curly haired boy had only a handful of “bullying” experiences throughout his life, the main topics being his thin appearance or lack of a father. He had once been deemed a “man whore” by a classmate after finding a new girlfriend within the week of a break up. All these remarks he simply turned a blind eye to once giving the gossiper a stoic glare that could kill.

 

Ryan:  
Would be appreciative if you kept  
my texts. I’m Ryan Ross btw.  
We have the same enviro. science  
class 

 

Brendon POV

 

Brendon balls up the plastic bag from his sandwich and pulls out another bag full of red grapes. He pulls a few off the vine and pops them into his mouth as the new message appear. He reads it over and begins to think, trying to remember what Ryan looks like. He stops chewing as he realizes who he is and becomes a bit nervous. He’s never necessarily thought of Ryan as a scary individual, just intimidating. From Brendon’s view, Ryan is someone outside of his realm of band geeks and nerds. He has popularity and a stoic attitude that most tend to not mess with, leaving him to dress and associate with whomever he pleases. The dark haired boy could only imagine how nice it would be to move through the day seemingly unnoticed by the rude individuals so dead set on trying to get to him. 

Unsure of how to answer Ryan, he finishes up his grapes quickly and crumples the bag up, putting all his trash into a little pile. Brendon checks the time, five more minutes of lunch. He glances down the hall then quickly bolts to the garbage can, disposing of his wrappers and scurrying back to his corner. He sits and listens to his music while he waits until the bell rings. As soon as it sounds, he slides his bag on his shoulders and hurries to his fifth period class. 

Ryan POV

Ryan waits impatiently throughout the rest of lunch and through fifth hour for Brendon’s response. He hurries to environmental science and walks in to find the dark haired boy sitting alone at the back of class, head down reading the textbook, his leg bouncing harshly. Ryan makes his way over to the teacher’s desk and gets her attention. She looks at his curiously.

“Ma’am, since no one sits in the back next to Brendon, for today could I sit back there? He’s been having a bit of a rough day”, Ryan proposes to the teacher. She looks at him with an endearing expression. “I didn’t know you two were friends.” she states. “But, I don’t see why not. Just get your work done please.”  
Ryan thanks her and makes a beeline for the back of the room. He pulls out the chair of the desk to the right of Brendon and sets his bag down and sits. Brendon looks up and is surprised to see anyone besides him, let alone Ryan. He continues bouncing his leg as the curly haired boy gives him a soft smile.

General POV

 

“You never answered me earlier. Something I said?” Ryan asks, keeping the smile on his lips. Brendon looks down again, trying to think of an answer, his lips parting slightly as he goes to speak before stopping himself. 

Ryan scoots his chair closer to Brendon’s desk and talks in his normal calm tone, “Or maybe just didn’t know what else to say?” 

Brendon looks up at him a little and nods, “yeah, just didn’t know what to say.”

“I understand, I didn’t give you much to work with. Are you doing okay though?” Ryan inquired.

The anxious boy simply shrugged, “It’s nothing new really, just digital instead of verbal.” He holds up his phone for exaggeration, showing his red and blue case. Ryan points at his phone, “I like your case. Reminds me of Mario.”

Brendon looks at his phone skeptically. “I’ve never really seen it like that before, you’re right.” He finally turns towards Ryan, still a little closed in on himself. “So, do you, um, like Mario then?”

“I do,” Ryan says softly then grins. “Don’t mean to brag, but I’m pretty badass at Mario Kart.” 

Brendon can’t help but crack a small smile, then becomes shy again, “That’s kind of the only Mario game I’m allowed to play. My parents said the other ones are too violent.”

The older boy’s smile wavers for a second before regaining it. “Well, at least it’s one of the best ones you get to play.” Ryan can see how tense Brendon still seems and tries to test the waters more. “Maybe we can play together sometime, only if you’d like to, of course.”

Brendon’s eyes widened momentarily at the offer before looking down and beginning to ramble. “Oh, well, um, I would, um have to ask if that’s okay, but um yeah maybe, if you're being serious. That would be cool.” He goes quiet for a second then looks up at Ryan, finally making eye contact, even if a bit unsteady and nervous, “Thank you for earlier, you really didn’t have to, but that was really nice of you and yeah.” He takes a much needed breath as Ryan let’s out a warm, amused laugh.

“It’s really no problem, Bren. And yes, I’m being completely serious.”  
Brendon looks down happily, his face going red at the nickname, not used to anyone outside of family calling him by anything other than his name. For whatever reason, it was okay for Ryan to use it. Maybe more than okay.

Ryan smiles at Brendon again before moving his chair back properly as the teacher passes out worksheets as class begins.


	2. Chapter 2

Throughout class, Ryan continues to cast glances in Brendon’s direction, finding the other working diligently. Brendon stops at one of the questions and makes a barely audible hum as he thinks. The curly haired boy watches him for a bit longer before leaning towards him and whispering, “ need some help there?”

Brendon jumps slightly and turns towards Ryan. “I um,” he nods quickly once. “Please.” 

He underlines a sentence within the lab report and passes it to the older boy. Ryan takes it from him and reads through it while Brendon turns in his seat to watch him. 

“When chemical runoff enters clean bodies of water, what consequences can be caused to the flora and fauna of the area and what long term effects may proceed? Are there any alternative measures that may be taken to minimize conditions?” Ryan reads aloud. Brendon just stares, still confused, unable to concentrate on what exactly it all means.

Embarrassed, Brendon sighs, “can you break it down a bit?” Ryan nods and places the paper down before opening his spiral notebook to a new page. He scribbles on it then passes it to Brendon. He reads it over carefully before mentally face palming at how simple the question really is.

“Making more sense now?” Ryan inquired?

“Much. Thank you,” Brendon replies before taking his paper back to write down his answer. Ryan returns to his own work and soon finishes. He looks up and sees Brendon staring in the direction of the turn in tray. He clears his throat, gaining his attention. 

“Whatcha starin at?” Ryan asks. Brendon jumps slightly and opens and closes his mouth like a fish, having been caught in an old, anxious habit. “Nothing. Just, um, need to turn in my paper. “ Brendon stammers out. Ryan stands and takes the dark haired boy's paper from his desk with a reassuring smile. “I'll take it, going that way myself.” 

Ryan makes his way to the front of the room and turns in the worksheets while Brendon's gaze follows him. He returns and sits, looking towards him. 

“There, no need to stare off into space anymore.” Ryan says jokingly. The nervous boy mumbles a thank you before starting to put away his notebook and pencil. He zips up his bag and sits upright once more, making quick eye contact with the teen beside him. 

“Are you always so squirrelly? Like, stammery and bouncy?” The hazel eye boy inquires. 

Brendon shrugs, “Kind of, I guess. Today's just been kinda anxiety fueling, and I'm sure you know cause my morning started off with Pete talking to me and fake asked me out so that was something then all the texts and things then talking to you, which I'm not used to talking to new people so this right now is making me anxious and I'm rambling, I'm sorry and I really don't know why I'm telling you this or why you're even talking to me, but yeah.” 

“Just take a deep breath, okay?” Ryan says calmly. Brendon nods and does so until more calm. He then looks at him questionably. 

“Why are you talking to me? Is this you pitying me for what happened because if it is, I'd much rather you just leave me be because I'd much rather have one real friend than you sitting here acting all nice just because you know I'm bullied constantly.” Brendon says defensively. 

“Pitying you? Of course not. I just wanted to make sure you're doing at least okay since I didn't hear from you earlier. I'm talking with you now because you're interesting. “ Ryan counters.

The smaller of the two goes wide eyed. “Oh. Im sorry, I just assumed and-” Ryan cuts him off, “It's okay, I understand.” Brendon let's out a small sigh of relief as the period bell rings. He stands and grabs his bag, slipping it onto his shoulders.

Ryan gathers his things then looks at the dark eyed boy making his way to the door. He hurries to his side. “Where are you headed? “ 

Brendon looks down as he exits into the hallway, Ryan still trailing him. “Um, band, why?” He asks. “Mind if I walk with you? My next class is in the same direction.” the taller states. Brendon simply shakes his head and continues walking, wondering when Ryan will arrive at his own class. They pass down the main hallway, approaching the music classrooms at the end. Unsure of why Ryan is still beside him, he tries to recall if Ryan is in possibly choir or orchestra, but has no memory of seeing him at any of the shared concerts between the three groups. He's snapped from his thoughts as Ryan speaks. “Here we are.” he says, motioning towards the open door to the band room. 

“Oh, um, bye.” Brendon says and moves to the doorway. “I'll see you tomorrow, “ Ryan says with a wave before heading down the hall. Brendon enters the room and spots his only real friend, Jon Walker. He's met with a lazy smile from the senior boy as he sits down in the chair beside him. “Hey man, who's the guy you were with?” 

“No one,” he says, trying to brush it off. 

“How do you know this kid? I mean, why's he walking you to class?” Jon continues.

The younger shrugs, “Long story short, Pete Wentz wrote my number in the bathroom. He saw and let me know and now he won’t leave me alone.” 

“Like creepy stalker won't leave you alone or lost puppy? If it's creepy stalker then I'll beat him up for you” Jon states with a smirk.

“No, I guess lost puppy, but not lost. He seems to want to be friends or something. I mean he's nice and he made sure I was okay after everything and he kinda caught on that I'm anxious cause I did the whole ‘wait until someone gets up so I know it's okay to and not get all the attention only on me’ thing so he took my paper for me and was nice about it” he rambles.

Jon smirks more. “He's pretty easy on the eyes, too. Maybe boyfriend material. “ 

“Jon, stop. I can't go chasing after every guy that's even remotely nice to me. Besides, he's dating someone already and I'm not even sure if he likes guys. I think he dated this one guy like the beginning of sophomore year, so maybe he experimented and then decided he's straight “ 

“Or, he's bi with a preference for girls, but would totally date you cause you're adorable and have a nice ass.”

Brendon blushes and gives a fake pout, “Stop it. Maybe I just want him as a friend and nothing else.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Jon replies before ruffling the younger’s hair. Brendon swats his hands away and smooths down his hair before standing. 

“I’m gonna go do my warm ups before we start,” he states. Jon nods and pulls out his trumpet from under his chair as Brendon heads to his cubby at the back of the room where he retrieves his drum sticks. He taps them together then heads over to the drum kit in the corner. He takes a seat on the stool and places his foot on the bass pedal, pressing it down a few times, creating a soft rhythm. He taps the snare then start tapping away at the toms, adding in a few hits of the high hat pedal. He ends with a cymbal crash and smiles, feeling already content and excited to actually play the songs they’ve been working on in preparation for the winter sports.

The teacher/ band director stands at the front of the room behind his music stand. He raises his arm and the wind instruments begin their warm ups. Brendon listens happily to the simple scales which soon end. The director reminds them that the next band concert is on the upcoming Thursday and that the first pep band event is Friday of the following week before telling them to begin the line up. 

The trumpets begin the jazz piece, the rest of the wind instruments soon joining in. A half beat later, Brendon begins carefully tapping the drum line on the bass. The tempo picks up and brendon starts hitting the snare and toms once more, hitting all the marks with a confident smile.

*  
Brendon walks out of class with Jon at his side, a comfortable silence over them until Jon stops suddenly. 

“Why'd you stop?” Brendon asks. Jon just puts an arm in front of him then gets close. 

“Look to your left by the lockers. Is that your man and his girlfriend?” Jon says, motioning in the direction with his head. Brendon glances over and sees Ryan with a blonde girl with a bad spray tan. 

“Uh, I think. I don't know who she is exactly.” the younger states, a small tone of disappointment in his voice.

“That's Keltie Knight, she's in my grade. She's a gossip, wonder why a supposedly nice guy like Ryan is dating her.” Jon says before crossing his arms.

Brendon watches Ryan talking to Keltie with an emotionless expression. The blonde is visibly becoming irritated with him. Whatever comes out of the hazel eyed boy next makes Keltie gasped in disbelief and stomp away in her heels, her hand held up in the air with only her middle finger raised. Ryan shrugs and turns back to his locker.

Jon motions Brendon to follow him outside. They walk out and finds an open spot near the building. Brendon leans against the brick, feeling it prickle against the fabric of his t shirt. 

“I’m guessing your guy is single now,” Jon says. Brendon shrugs then turns to his taller friend. “Can you stop calling him mine? I barely know him and yeah he’s attractive, but i don’t even know him and that’s kind of weird, plus if I’m going to try and be friendly with him, then i don’t need you putting ideas in my head and making me more awkward and nervous than I already am.” he ends with a soft huff.

Jon pats his shoulder, “I understand and I’ll maybe tone it down, but when you two are having toasts at your wedding, I’m going to tell everyone that I knew it was destined since day uno.” Brendon goes to retort his friend once more, but before he can, Jon is walking away and getting on the bus.  
He pulls out his phone and scrolls through Facebook to waste time. He continues to stand patiently waiting for his bus, which is seemingly nowhere in sight. He looks around and sees no one from his bus route within the thinning crowd. He checks the time and wonders why his bus would of, if it did, came already. He looks around once more, it finally sinking in that he has in fact, missed his bus. 

“Gosh darn it,” he mutters under his breath. He scrolls through his contacts until he finds his sister, Kyla’s number. He dials it and holds it up to his ear and listens to it ring. 

“What do you want?”, Kyla answers in an annoyed tone. 

Brendon swallows before answering, “I, um, missed my bus. Could you pick me up please?”

He hears an exasperated sigh. “I’m in class and unless you’re going to pay for this missed credit hour, then you’ll either have to walk, wait, or see if one of the other three will leave work to get you. And don’t you dare call Mom or Dad,” Kyla warns. Brendon nods before remembering he can’t be seen. “Alright, I’m gonna walk then,” he says quietly. “Sorry for bothering you.” He hangs up the phone and pockets it. He adjusts the bag on his shoulders and starts to walk away from the school. Brendon hears a door open to his right, followed by a familiar voice. He stops and glances over his shoulder and sees Ryan and another boy with chin length brown hair.

Ryan stops Brendon and quickly makes his way over to the dark haired boy. Brendon’s eyes lock on hazel, accidently staring as Ryan speaks. “I thought I said I’d see you tomorrow. It’s still today,” he says with a smile. Brendon blinks a few times, not knowing him to react, he stammers, trying to find an answer. 

Ryan holds up a thin hand in surrender, “Hey, hey I promise, I’m kidding. Running into you again is more than okay, but what are you still doing here? Buses are gone by now usually, and if you walk, wouldn’t you want to practically run from this hell hole?” 

Brendon slips his hands into his jacket pockets and fiddles with an already rolled piece of paper and speaking quietly, embarrassed, “ Missed my bus…” Ryan continues to smile at him. “I get it. Is anyone coming to pick you up?” Brendon shakes his head in response. “I could drive you home, if you’d like.” 

“No, that’s okay. I can just walk, but thank you.” Brendon responds. 

“How far is the walk?” Ryan asks. 

“Twenty minutes or so,” the younger mumbles.

Ryan gently puts a hand on Brendon’s shoulder, “Bren, I’m not letting you walk twenty minutes by yourself in January. Please just let me drive you home. Just ask Spencer, I’m a good driver.” he motions towards the other teen, still standing by the door. Spencer walks over to the duo and smiles brightly. “He’s a decent driver. I trust him not to cause an accident unless on purpose.” he jokes. Brendon smiles a bit, Ryan just flashes his friend a glance of protest.

“Spencer, don’t scare Brendon.” Ryan says, giving Brendon’s shoulder a soft squeeze. 

“Figured you’re Brendon from,” gestures to them both. “ this. He wouldn’t shut up about you during last hour.” Spencer teases as Brendon goes red. Ryan playfully punches Spencer’s arm and shushes him before directing all his attention back to the shortest of the group. “So, you gonna let me drive you home?” Ryan asks once more. Brendon consider for a second before muttering a soft okay. 

Ryan gets close to Brendon’s ear and whispers, “say shotgun.”

“Shotgun?” Brendon questions.

Spencer sighs, “Damn it, I forgot to call it.” Ryan just smiles and leads them to his car. He unlocks the driver’s side, then the rest of the doors. He throws his bag in the backseat and gets in. Brendon stands outside, still confused about “shotgun”. Spencer stands beside him.

“You get front seat, dude.” With a soft ‘oh’, the dark haired boy gets into the front seat. He looks around the car and finds it spotless practically. He fastens his seat belt and looks out the windshield. Spencer slides into the back seat as Ryan turns the key in the ignition, the radio turning on to static. Ryan reaches over the teen beside him and opens the glove compartment, revealing many CD cases. 

“My radio doesn’t work cause the antenna is broken, so CDs. Pick one out,” Ryan states as he places a stack of albums onto Brendon’s lap. The boy looks down and carefully picks up the first one. He examines the art on the front of a raunchy nurse with a blue butterfly arm tattoo, “blink-182” where you would expect a name tag. He sets it aside revealing The Beatles “With the Beatles” album. He’s not familiar with the album, but The Beatles he somewhat knows. He nervously passes it towards the driver who happily accepts it and pops it into the CD player, then returns the cases to the glove box.

Ryan buckles up and looks at Spencer though his rear view mirror, sprawled out on the back seat lazily. “Spencer Smith, sit up and buckle up or your ass is walking.”

Spencer grunts, still laying there, “So you’d make me walk, but not Brendon?” 

“He’s following traffic laws, means he won’t get me a ticket. Plus he didn’t ask me to look through his disaster of a locker for a single loose paper that’s been at the bottom of your back pack the whole time.” 

Spencer sits up and shrugs, “Nobody's perfect, Ryan. So, let’s get going.”

“Seat belt, young man.” 

“Yes, mother.” Spencer says as he buckles. Brendon not able to hold back a small smile. Ryan looks over, seeing that they’re ready to go. He turns up the radio and presses play on the CD, the proceeds to drive away from the school. 

“So, need your address,” Ryan states.

Spencer mindlessly replies in place of Brendon, “You should know where I live by now.”

“Not you, dumbass. I’m talking to Bren.” he brings his tone back to more calm and much more sincere. “Now, what’s your address?” Brendon quickly rambles it off, Ryan nodding in understanding. 

“Works perfectly, Spence isn’t too far from there.”

From there, they drive comfortably, The Beatles playing at a pleasant roar. Brendon listens closely to the words, a little confused by some in the context. They soon come to a stop in front of a nice house with clean, white paneling. Ryan turns to the back seat, “Alright, see you in the morning.” Spencer smiles and nods before getting out of the car.

They stay in front of the house until Spencer gets inside and waves out the screen door. Ryan pulls back onto the road, continuing on to Brendon’s house. They stop at an intersection, the light red. The older boy looks to his passenger and turns down the radio. Brendon looks up , wondering why he did so.

“Sorry, I just kinda wanna talk, is that okay?” Ryan asks. Brendon nods hesitantly, not knowing what to expect. 

“so...how was your last class?” the older asks, somewhat awkwardly. “Good, fun” is all Brendon replies.

“I bet, seems like a fun class compared to physics.” 

“Everything is more fun than physics, but band is actually fun.” Brendon defends.

“I believe you. What do you play?” Ryan asks.

Nervously he answers, “I started on clarinet, but the director had me try for drums, and now  
I’m the drum leader.”  
“Damn, Bren, that’s impressive. Gotta hear you play one day.”

“It’s really nothing special, it’s just hitting some stuff,” he shrugs.

“Well. i think it’s cool, but if you don’t wanna share, i understand,” Ryan reassures him as he pulls in front of Brendon’s house. 

Brendon unbuckle and picks his bag up from the floor. “Thank you.”

“Of course. You ever need a ride to or from school, just let me know,” Ryan offers with a smile.

Brendon finds himself returning the smile as he gets out of the car and heads up to the house. He unlocks the door and watches as Ryan waves as he drives away. He waves back and goes inside.


	3. Chapter 3

Ryan soon arrives home, the seemingly anxious boy occupying his thoughts as he parks on the street in front of his house. He turns the car off and gets out, grabbing his heavy bag from the back seat. He swings his black lanyard back and forth and he strolls to the front door and unlocks it. He steps inside and shuts the door, hanging up his keys as he toes off his converse. 

HIs bag is set on the couch before making his way into the kitchen. Ryan opens the fridge and grabs a soda, pops open the top, and takes a sip while he glances over his mother’s work schedule. A soft sigh escapes his lips at the knowledge of yet another night alone. He pivots on his heel, heading back to the living room. He sits cross legged next to his backpack, placing the can on the coffee table in front of him. He unzips his bag and pulls out a binder, set to begin his habit of getting homework done right away. Before he can begin, is phone vibrates in his pocket. Ryan pulls it out, met with Spencer’s contact flashing across. He answers it, putting the call on speaker.

“It’s been what, not even twenty minutes and you already missed me?” Ryan answers, sarcastically. 

“You wish. I can’t just say hi to my best friend?” Spencer retorts.

“Nope, now what do you need?” Ryan asks.

“Nothing,” Spencer says in a tone making it obvious it’s anything besides nothing.

“C’mon, Spence, just spit it out.” 

“Fine, anything happen between you and your new friend after i left?” Spencer questions, curiosity in his voice.

“Seriously, that’s what you called about? Of course nothing happened, we just talked, asked him about what he does in band.” he responds matter of factly.

“Right,” Spencer says, drawing it out. “So, you broke up with Keltie today just out of coincidence?”

“Yes, I even told you i was going to do it some time last week. Why would Brendon have anything to do with that?” Ryan questions, defensively.

“Hey now, never said he did. But, before you bite my head off, i have an actual question. If your mom is working late, want me to swing by later or you wanna come over for dinner at least?” Spencer asks whole heartedly.

“No, I think I’ll be okay, but I’ll let you know if that changes, thanks though.” 

“Okay, I’ll let you get back to being a nerd like I’m sure you are. Later,” Spencer jokes.

The line goes dead before he can respond. He sets his phone down and gets to work.

*

The rest of the week goes by as somewhat uneventful with causal, awkward conversation carrying between Ryan and Brendon as they become more acquainted. Ryan’s new unassigned assigned seat in environmental science is besides Brendon, who he continues to accompany on the walk to sixth hour everyday. 

As of Monday the following week, Brendon settles down in his usual spot in the commons area, getting his lunch out of his bag. He takes out his sandwich and starts to eat, watching those that pass by as he leans against the wall sluggishly. 

A familiar person strolls by, making Brendon lean forward and grab his ankle, not wanting to really talk, let alone yell out to get his attention. 

Ryan stumbles as his ankle is restricted. He suspiciously looks down with a scowl to see fingers around him. He follows the fingers with his eyes until he spots Brendon peeking out from a door frame. He scowl softens to a smile, Brendon lazyly returns one as he lets go.

Ryan turns around and steps in front of dark haired boy. “Hey, mind if i sit?” 

Brendon scoots closer to the wall, motioning for Ryan to sit beside him. Brendon sets his sandwich down and turns towards the taller boy, “didn’t know you had this lunch,” he says softly, much more calm than normal. 

Ryan nods, “I could say the same for you, but yeah. I usually just hang out in the library.” 

Brendon nods once in understanding. He looks down at his sandwich then back up at Ryan, not knowing if he wants to continue eating.

“Are you, um, going to buy a lunch or anything?” Brendon asks.

“No, I don’t eat lunch most days, but seriously, eat. Don’t feel like you need to stop or anything,” Ryan states.

Brendon looks at him somewhat questioningly for a second before picking his sandwich back up, “Do you want half maybe or maybe some crackers or fruit. I might have a granola bar, too.”

“I’m okay, you eat your lunch. I’m totally fine,” Ryan responds

The dark hair boy shakes his head softly, his bangs bouncing with the movement, as he tears his sandwich in half and holds the untouched side out towards Ryan, “no offense, but you look like a twig enough as it is, so please just eat.”

“If it’ll make you happy,” Ryan says and takes the offering. 

They eat in silence, Ryan observing Brendon, noticing his body language being off compared to the last week.

“You feeling okay? You seem a bit sleepy or something,” Ryan asks, sounding concerned.

Brendon nods and rests his head against the wall once more, “ I’m okay. I had a speech in english earlier, so I took my medicine again this morning so I’d be more calm and not all jittery, but it’s been a while, so I’m a little out of it is all.” 

“Would taking a quick cat nap or having some caffeine help you get your energy back?” Ryan asks, trying to help.

Brendon ponders a second, “I’m not allowed caffeine, so maybe a nap. The wall doesn’t make a great pillow, though” 

The taller boy laughs softly, “I figured, so how about a backpack pillow instead?” 

He lays down their bags and pats them. Brendon nods and curls up, resting his head on his bag.

“Now I just need a blanket, “ Brendon say sarcastically.

“Don’t worry, I have that covered,” Ryan says, shrugging off his lettermans jacket, laying it gently over the tired teen beside him. Brendon’s cheeks turns a soft pink as he looks down at the jacket, “thanks.” Ryan removes Brendon’s glasses from his face, then places them at the front of his own shirt for safe keeping.

“Of course, now sleep. We have like twenty minutes, I’ll wake you if the bell doesn't.” 

Brendon nods softly as he closes his eyes and quickly drifts to sleep.

*

Ryan sits casually on his phone, giving quick glances over to Brendon every few minutes, finding the boy still sound asleep. As it gets closer to time for the bell to ring, he quietly disposes of the wrappers from Brendon’s lunch and puts the rest of the uneaten food back into his lunch bag. Zipping it up, the period bell rings, causing those around them to gather their things and hurry off to fifth hour, yet Brendon remains sleeping. 

Ryan scoots beside him and gently shakes him, “Bren, c’mon. It’s time to get up.”

The sleepy boy grunts softly as he brings a hand up from under his makeshift blanket and rubs his eyes. Ryan takes his glasses off his shirt and opens them as Brendon sits up. He hands them over and stands, grabbing his own bag on the way up. Brendon puts his glasses on and stretches, the jacket falling to his lap. 

“I was all comfy and warm,” Brendon whines, sleep in his voice as he stands. He picks up Ryan’s jacket and hesitates for a second before returning it.

Ryan takes it back and puts it over his shoulder. “I know, but now, we should get you to class, sleepy head. Where are you headed?” 

“Calculus,” the shorter responds. Ryan nods and motions for him to follow, heading in the direction of the math department. Brendon gathers his things and speed walks to his side. They continue down the hall, Ryan asking the teen beside him which math teacher he has my listing them off, Brendon shaking his head at each wrong answer with slight amusement. Ryan’s question is finally answered when Brendon stops in front of a classroom. Without a word, he gives a quick wave and ducks into the classroom.

*

Brendon hurries off to sixth hour, wanting to leave calculus as soon as possible, having been yelled at for dozing off during notes. He enters the environmental sciences class and scurries to his seat. As he looks up, he spots Ryan smiling at him as he makes his way over and takes a seat. 

“Hey, how was calc?” the taller boy questions. 

Brendon just shrugs in response, “boring. Fell asleep and the teacher was mad at me for it.”

Ryan gently rests a hand on his shoulder, “Bren, I’m sorry. At least just two more classes then you can go home and nap in peace, right?” Brendon nods, confirming.

“Maybe we can try and take your mind off it, yeah? Remember last week, I said we should hang out and play Mario Kart sometime?” Ryan asks optimistically. 

“Yeah, I do. What about it exactly?” Brendon questions.

“Well, I was thinking, what if we hang out on Friday at my place?” the hazel eyed boy proposes.

Brendon visibly thinks for a moment, “Friday? I have pep band Friday night until eightish, I don’t know if that’ll work.”

“Hm, “ Ryan says, trying to think of a solution. “What about after? I could pick you up from the school or I could just come to the game if it makes things easier. Then we could go and order a pizza or something and hang out. I mean, i have no problem driving you home or if you’re comfortable you’d be more than welcome to spend the night.” 

Brendon considers, finding he quite likes the idea, “I’d have to ask my parents, but yeah, it sounds really fun, actually.” 

Ryan gives him a content smile, “great. No rush or anything, just gotta know by Friday morning.”

The dark haired boy nods, returning a smile. 

*

Brendon sits at his drum kit in the basement. He sighs in frustration as he keeps messing up a measure in one of the songs he needs to know for pep band. He tries once more, continues to mess up and throws his drum sticks across the room, having been a bit temperamental since his nap at home. As the sticks bounce off the wall with a clank, Mrs.Urie can be heard stomping over to the basement door.

“Brendon, what the heck are you doing down there?” she exclaims, angerly.

“Nothing, mom,” he says, hurrying to grab his sticks. “Just dropped my sticks is all.”

“Well, you better be careful with those, you’re not getting another pair if they break.” she states.

He grumbles to himself at her remark, knowing once his sticks wear down once again, he’ll have to find a way to fund his hobby.

“Dinner is almost done. Get up here and set the table,” she yells down, interrupting his thoughts. 

“Yes, mom,” he calls up as he places the drum sticks on his stoll before hurrying upstairs to do as he’s told.

*

Brendon sits down at the table as his mother begins serving dinner. His dad and older sister come in and sit in their usual spots, Brendon then gets up and gets their drinks before returning to his seat beside his father. 

They all sit quietly and listen as his father says grace before starting the meal. The stereotypical conversation of how everyone’s day went comes and goes, plunging them back into an uncomfortable silence. 

Brendon gently sets down his fork and looks up, clearing his throat, getting everyone’s attention.

“Um, Mom, Dad, can i ask you guys a question?” he asks nervously.

“Of course, son. Go for it.” his father responds, not really giving him much attention as he continues to eat.

“So, one of my friends from school asked if i want to hang out on Friday, but I have the pep band thing at the basketball game, so he offered that if it was okay with you guys, he could just go with then drive me back to his house and either he drive me back home after a while or I spend the night and I know you don’t like me being out late or going to people’s houses that you don’t know, but I promise we won’t stay up super late or anything and he’s really responsible, plus I’m sure his parents will be home, so please can I?” he blurts out.

He parents hardly react. “I don’t know, honey. Your father and I will talk it over after dinner.” his mother says.

“Oh, okay,” he says, not knowing why he even got his hopes up. He looks back down at his food and to continues eat.

After dinner, he goes up to his room and works on his homework for a while. He hears a soft knock on his door and looks up, seeing his mother walk in with a smile. She sits down on the edge of his bed,

“Your father and I talked it over, and as long as you get all your chores done and behave yourself the rest of the week, you can go. But, I want his parents’ phone numbers and the house address.” she states.

Brendon lights up and smiles brightly, “Of course, thank you so much, Mom.”

She ruffles his hair, “you’re welcome, honey. Now, finish up your homework then get ready for bed.” she gets up and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

He waits a few seconds, making sure she’s gone, before grabbing his phone and excitedly texting Ryan the good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the previous two, will definitely try to make up for it with the next chapter. as always, kudos and comments are very much appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the week seemed to fly by and yet, not reach Friday soon enough for Brendon's liking. The whole week leading up had been a combination of excitement and crippling fear, not knowing what to expect, having never been to Ryan's house, let alone slept over. 

He continues to go over the schedule for the afternoon, sweating the small details such as what to bring or what to say when he meets Ryan's parents. He recalls asking Ryan for their number on Tuesday at lunch. He had only been given a small slip of paper with a single phone number with Daniella written underneath. Having not given it much thought before, he wonders if Ryan only has a mom and starts to silently curse himself, if he could even call it that considering no curse words were used, feeling bad that he assumed the worse over a bare minimum detail that he decides probably has no huge significance. 

Brendon's thoughts continue to drift to different scenarios he imagines. His mind sets on a random idea of what if Ryan offers him a soda. He considers how he would decline, maybe opting to say he's not allowed, which he isn't, or even going so far as to claim he's allergic to caffeine. For all he knows, he really could be, considering it's never entered his body before. 

He continues on with the wild idea, landing on the possibility of Ryan pressuring him to drink it or making fun of him over his inability to accept his offer. He quickly snaps himself out of it, reminding himself that Ryan wouldn't do that. He feels a hand on his shoulder and looks over, seeing Jon beside him, his trumpet case in his other.

“Class is over. You okay, man? Looked like you were high or some shit, all zoned out,” the standing teen states. 

Brendon blinks a few times then nods, “yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about tonight is all.” 

“There's no reason to get all worked up. You're gonna crush those drumlines then go and have a great night with him.” Jon says, rubbing Brendon's shoulder in comfort.

“You're right. I just, I keep worrying about stuff and I don't want to be all awkward with him cause that'll ruin the night.” the dark haired boy sighs.

“Just be yourself and it'll be fine. If he can handle you all anxious or drugged out of your mind, I'm sure he can handle super happy staying up past ten PM Brendon, too.” Jon declares. “Now, c'mon. You gotta get home to get ready for your night.” 

Brendon puts his sticks down on his music holder and stands. He gives Jon a smile before grabbing his bag and leading the way out.

*

Brendon taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the front porch, overnight bag in his lap, waiting for Ryan to arrive to pick him up. He crosses his arms over his chest as a cold wind blows, making him shiver. He contemplates going back inside to get a jacket, but doesn’t want to leave Ryan waiting if he shows up during that time. 

About a minute later, Ryan’s junky car is pulled up in front of his house and Brendon makes his way over. He opens the passenger side door and slides in, being met with a smile from the driver clad in a black faux leather jacket.

“Hey,” Ryan greets. “All ready to go?” 

“Mhm, just hope i remembered everything,” Brendon says.

“Great,” Ryan replies, turning up the stereo as he drivers towards the school. 

Soon they’re pulling into the parking lot, arriving a few minutes earlier than Brendon needs to . Ryan shuts off the car and unbuckles before turning to the dark haired teen beside who is bouncing his leg, shaking the car.

“Bren, you seem a little worked up. Nervous?” Ryan asks, concern in his voice.

Brendon continues bouncing as he nods. He crosses his arms, feeling small goosebumps on the skin.

Taking Brendon’s actions into consideration, he decides to try and help. “Um, you’re holding yourself. Are you cold? Do you have a jacket to put and warm you up or something.’

Brendon looks down at his lap, embarrassed, his voice quiet, “I, um, forgot one.”

 

“No worries, I have an extra,” Ryan reassures him as he reaches into the back seat, retrieving his letterman's and placing it in Brendon’s lap.

The anxious boy looks down at the jacket then over at Ryan, “I’ll be okay. It’s not that cold out and we’ll be in the school soon anyways so it’s okay.”

“Bren, we both know the gym is drafty as hell and a jacket is very much needed. Besides, if you get sick on my watch, I can’t have your parents taking hangouts out of the equation after the first one. Plus, the thought of you being sick isn't pleasant, don’t need your bright demeanor dulled by snot.”

Brendon finds himself smiling with an over dramatic sigh, “Fine, I’ll wear your stupid jacket, only because I don’t want you to see me sick cause it’s gross,” he says as he sits forward and slips the jacket on, finding it to be a bit too big, the sleeves going to the end of his fingertips and knows the bottom would reach the tops of his thighs once he stands. He holds up his hands and giggles softly, his nervous starting to calm a little in the moment. He looks back to Ryan and finds him with an amused smile.

“Want some help with those?” he asks, taking Brendon's wrist before getting an answer, and gently folding the sleeve. “Is this too tight feeling?”

“I-, um, no, it’s okay,” a now slightly flustered Brendon answers as Ryan moves to repeat the action to the other side. He watches the older boy’s face as he looks back to the previous work, trying to make the folds symmetrical, his tongue barely visible, poking out between his teeth. Brendon silently wonders if it’s he ‘thinking face’.

Ryan sits back and looks at Brendon, the corners of his mouth turned up, “there, now you can use your hands again.”

“Thanks,” Brendon says as he looks over the patches on the sleeves. He points to one that appears to him as a weird X with a blob underneath. “What's this?”

“These,” Ryan answers, pointing to each as he explains,”are hockey sticks and a puck. I lettered in hockey, played varsity freshman and sophomore year.” 

Brendon beams up a bit, feeling strangely proud of Ryan. He looks up at him and smiles excitedly, “That's awesome! Do you still play?” 

“No, not for the school at least. I just finished playing for a league a town over in December, so now it's just for fun or exercise until the next season,” he explains. 

“Wait,” the dark haired boy says as a realization hits. “You can ice skate, right? Wait that's a dumb question, of course you can, how else would you play ice hockey? But like, that's really cool. I can't even roller skate without falling every two seconds.” Brendon rambles.. He's met with a gentle chuckle from the taller teen beside him and can't help but smile sheepishly. 

“Yes, I can skate,” Ryan says, sounding amused. “Maybe I could show you one of these days. Unlike roller skating, you can hold onto the outside of the rink, and I can help instruct you a bit.” 

Nervousness takes over Brendon again, his leg bouncing harder as he picks at his fingers, “really? I won't be any good and it probably won't be super fun if I just keep falling.” 

“Well, guess I'll have to try and catch you every time.”

Crimson creeps up his cheeks as he looks out the window towards the school, spotting several kids from pep band making their way towards the gymnasium. He unbuckled his seatbelt and tries to open the door, finding it locked. Sounding more panicky than he thought, he continues to try and open it, “Ryan, I need to go into the school now. Open the door.” 

“Okay, okay,” he says, unlocking the doors. “Just calm down, everything is going to be fine, I'm sure.” 

Brendon doesn't listen as he opens the door and steps out, breathing in the cool air, trying to calm himself a bit. Ryan walks to his side and looks at him curiously, “Bren, you okay?” 

The teen nods, “I'm okay. Can we go inside, please?” 

“Of course,” he says before leading the way into the gym.

Following silently behind Ryan, he slips his hands into the pockets of the jacket, finding them to be softly lined and warm. He finds what feels like a cough drop wrapper in the right and starts to roll it between his index finger and thumb. He starts to feel slightly dazed, a mixture of anxious energy over taking him, making him want to curl into the warm jacket surrounding him and simultaneously wanting to sprint up and down the bleachers until he passes out from exhaustion. He snaps out of it once he notices Ryan talking. “Um, say that again?”

“I said, I'm going to go get something from the concession stand then sit. Do you want anything? A soda or chips or something?” he repeats.

“Oh, I, um, I'm not allowed to drink soda cause of the caffeine. Can I maybe have a water please?” 

“Sure thing. Go get ready to tap those skins, I'll bring it to you,” the hazel eyed boy says before wandering away. Brendon makes his way over to the other band kids and spots Jon. He makes his way up the bleachers and greets him.

“Hey, man,” Jon says happily. “What do you have on?” 

The dark haired boy looks down at his arms then looks back up, a bit embarrassed, “a jacket.”

Jon eyes him suspiciously, “Who's jacket? Turn around.” Brendon slowly turns, revealing the back of the jacket where more patches and Ross is apart of the design on the back.

“Dude, is that Ryan's jacket? Why do you have it on?” he asks, sounding surprised. 

“I, um forgot one and he told me to put it on. Said he doesn't want me getting sick,” the flustered boy answers, playing with the rolled sleeves.

“Well, that's nice of him. Seems a bit big though. You sure you can drum with it on?” Jon inquiries.

Brendon nods then finds himself feeling warm, “yeah. He rolled the sleeves tight so they shouldn't fall.” 

Jon ruffles his hair with an almost teasing smile, “okay then. Now go warm up, we start in fifteen.”

The dark haired boy flashes him a smile before making his way down the bleachers and over to the drum kit at the bottom. He gives it a quick scan over making sure everything is in place before sitting down and tapping each one with his sticks. He starts to quietly practice the drumline to the first song they have arranged, feeling proud of himself for remember almost all of it. He gets to the last measure and looks up at the music stand in front of him and sees Ryan standing behind it, not exactly smiling but looking content and presumably happy. He stops abruptly and looks up at him. “How long have you been standing there?” He asks.

“Not long. I got your water,” Ryan replies, holding up the plastic bottle. Brendon takes it from him and sets it down on the ground behind the drums. “I'm going to go sit, you keep warming up. Not saying you need it ‘cause that sounded great, but you seemed really calm and you've been nervous all day, so beat your nervous out, okay?” 

“Um, yeah, yeah, totally,” he answers. With a small confidence boost, he decides to try and spin his drum stick, having done it successfully numerous times. He begins to spin it, but it slips from his hand and ends up flying forward, nearly missing Ryan's head. Ryan's eyes follow the movement and sees the stick land on the ground with a thump followed by a roll. He remains emotionless for a second before breaking into a small smile accompanied by a gentle laugh. Brendon's worried expression melts away at seeing the teen in front of him unhurt and finding the situation amusing and begins to laugh with him. 

A random band kid walks over and return the drumstick to Brendon and tells him to warm up. Ryan flashes him an encouraging look before walking over to the second to the bottom row of the bleachers closest to the band section. Brendon gets back to running through his last few measures quietly before staring off into space, sipping his water and waiting for their que to begin playing. 

Ryan looks around the gym, not exactly excited to be at a basketball game considering he's never really been fond of the sport. Not to mention, sitting on a plastic bench for an hour doesn't do wonders for the back, no matter how young. 

He grabs the small red and white striped box, opens it and takes out a handful of popcorn then cringes slightly at the overly salted snack. He finishes off the handful and places the box down beside himself before taking a drink of his soda. He looks over towards the band section and sees Brendon staring off into space, his expression calm. He continues to observe the dark haired boy until the band director raises his arm, signaling for them to begin. Brendon looks up, seemingly catching Ryan staring, he gives a smile before counting down for the band to start their first song as the home basketball team runs out to begin warm ups.

As the game begins, Ryan finds himself paying more attention to Brendon than the game. He continues to look at the drummer, really only turning his full attention to the game when the whistle is blown. Before he knows it, it's half time. The band begins to play a rendition of ‘Sweet Caroline’ by Neil Diamond, some of the crowd singing when appropriate. He watches as Brendon happily beats his drums, obviously having a good time. 

After the song ends, Brendon placed his sticks on the stoll, grabs his water, and makes his way over to where Ryan is seated and slides in beside him.

“Hey,” Ryan greets. “Looked like you were having fun over there.” 

The shorter of the two shrugs, “I guess so. My arms hurt though from playing.” he says and holds his left wrist, letting it go limp with a quick frown before peeking back up as he spots the box next to Ryan's feet. 

Ryan grabs the box and shakes it to show it's full, “you want some?”

Brendon pretends to ponder for a moment before holding out his hands in a cupped position, “please?”

Ryan places the box in his hands, “you can have it. It's over salted.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, opening the box.

“Positive, it's all yours,” the hazel eyed boy responds, taking another sip from his drink.

Brendon hesitates for a second before starting to munch on the popcorn happily. They sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before the minute buzzer sounds. “Shouldn't you get back over to your drums?” He asks. In between a handful of popcorn, Brendon looks up at him and shakes his head, “nope, no music during third and then only at the end of the fourth, so I'm pretty much done until i have do that and then help move my drums back to the band room, but Jon usually helps me so it'll go quick. Why do you ask?” he replies, feeling a small sinking in his stomach of the possibility of Ryan not wanting to hang out with him during the game. 

“Was just wondering is all. Not trying get rid of you or anything.” 

Brendon lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, “okay.”

Ryan gives him a serious look, “Bren, why would I try and get rid of you? I mean, you're spending the night at my house. If I didn't want you around, I wouldn't be here or looking forward to later.” 

The younger shrugs, “I don't know, just kinda thought is all…”

“I promise I want to be around you and hang out, don't worry. “ Ryan clarifies. “Now, don't completely fill up on popcorn. We'll get food after the game.” 

The anxious boy gives Ryan a small smirk as he takes out a single piece of popcorn from the box and and over dramatically pops it into his mouth. Ryan looks at him with an amused expression and playfully elbows him, causing Brendon to laugh. He closes the box and places it back where he found it before directioning his attention to the players making their way back onto the court and halftime finally comes to an end. He looks over at Ryan curiously, “Do you know how basketball works exactly? Like, I know the ball goes in the goal or hoop or whatever it's called, but everything else is kinda of confusing.”

Ryan glances over and thinks how to answer his question, “well, I'm pretty sure fouls, or when the whistle is blown, is for body checks and doing illegal stuff with the ball, like dribbling with two hands. You've played it in gym freshman year or in elementary school or something, right?”

Brendon laughs a little, “not exactly, I was one of the kids that just kind of stood there. I mean, I tried once and got hit in the face, I think it was on purpose now that I think about it, but I got a bloody nose so I never tried again. No real loss there, but yeah, i don't know how basketball works still. I wanna try and learn though so maybe it'll be more fun to watch when I'm stuck here.” 

“I get that, I'm not exactly the person to help you, sorry.”

“That's okay. We can be confused together. Might make it more fun.” Brendon decides.

For the continuation of the rest of the game, Brendon watches, trying to figure out exactly what the rules are and asks Ryan endless questions without really meaning to. By the time the end of the fourth rolls around, he completely forgets to head back over to his drum kit until the band director is calling him over in a not too pleased tone. He taps Ryan on the shoulder to get his attention then slides off the bleachers and runs over to his kit and begins playing the school fight song.

As the band concludes their final song, Brendon begins to load his kit onto the small flat cart behind the bleachers. Jon wanders over and silently helps before giving a quick goodbye along with a wish of good luck before leaving. 

As Brendon begins to wheel the cart towards the doors out the gym and into the rest of the school, he looks over to see Ryan close beside him, placing a hand on the cart handle. 

“Let me push it,” the taller boy offers.

“No, that's okay, I can do it.”

“Didn't you say your arms hurt from drumming? Pushing that can't possibly help.”

Seeing as to where this is going and not really wanting to pass up the offer to be lazy, Brendon let's go of the cart and steps aside. Ryan takes his place and lets Brendon guide him to the band room and watches him quickly reassemble the drums in their proper place.

“All ready now?” Ryan questions, slight enthusiasm in his tone.

“As ready as I'll ever be,” Brendon replies, following down the hall out of the school. He feels the anxiety starting to pool in his chest once more as he gets back into Ryan's car. He takes a few quiet deep breaths and tells himself that he will have fun and everything will be okay. He just hopes he isn't lying to himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took so long. My goal has been Sunday nights to post but it may turn into whenever i can. I'm going to try and keep with Sundays, but things happen at it's better late than never


	5. Chapter 5

The drive to Ryan's house is quick and filled with the melodies of 90s punk music, with the car being pulled into the driveway leading to a two car garage attached to a smaller ranch style home. 

Ryan takes the keys from the ignition and turns to Brendon, watching the teen beside him glance out the window to the house in a curious manner. “And, we're here,” he says while unbuckling and unlocking the doors.

Brendon repeats the action, grabbing his bag and stepping out onto the driveway. Ryan rounds the car and leads the way to the front door. He unlocks it like he has countless times, but this time seems somewhat different, but he simply credits it to nervous, not having invited anyone besides Spencer over since elementary school. 

He steps inside and toes off his shoes, and looks over to where he assumes Brendon to be standing beside him, to instead see the teen on the ground wrestling with his shoelaces before neatly placing them beside the door and returning to his feet, his bag in his hands once more.

Ryan starts in the direction towards a skinny hallway between the kitchen and living area. “C'mon, I'll show you my room. You can leave your stuff there.” 

Brendon steps behind him and looks at the creme walls of the hallway littered with picture frames, assuming the small boy appearing in many to be Ryan. He's lead through a dark brown door into Ryan's room. He steps in and sets his attention right away on a bright display of posters hung in a collage behind a neatly made bed of blue and grey sheets.

“You can just put your bag on the bed or by my desk or where ever you want really,” Ryan states, crossing the room and sitting down on the bed, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Brendon looks around the room once more before setting his bag on the worn, black office chair beside a wooden desk covered in ink marks. He pads over to the bed and slowly lowers himself down on the edge, keeping a considerable distance between the host and himself. He continues to look around in a curious manner until Ryan clears his throat, directing Brendon’s attention to him.

“So, you hungry? We could order a pizza or we could go back out and pick up something if you’d wanna do that instead,” Ryan asked. 

“We don’t have to go back out. Pizza would be fine. I mean if you want pizza that’s totally cool and if you don’t then that’s fine too, I mean, whatever works,” Brendon rambles out.

“We’ll do pizza, then. You okay with like pepperoni or something?” he says, taking his phone and wallet from his pocket.

Brendon nods, “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Great,” Ryan responds as he fills out the online order. “You want any sauces or anything? They have like those little cups of garlic or ranch.”

“No, plus ranch is only for vegetables.” he responds.

“That isn’t true, it can go with tons of things. Like, what do you use for chicken wings?” Ryan retorts.

“Blue cheese,” Brendon states like it’s common sense.

“Brendon, you are disgusting. You’re just eating mold,” Ryan says looking over at him and gives a serious look before breaking back into the calm, relaxed expression he wore prior to. 

“So? Ranch isn’t much better. And isn’t like cheese in general just old milk?” 

“You really want to think of the technicalities of cheese when we just ordered a pizza?” 

Brendon simply shrugs with a mischievous look, “I don’t know, you started it after all.”

Ryan looks back with a raised eyebrow, “Did i now?” he asks, scooting closer. 

A matter of fact nod is accompanied by a verbal agreement from Brendon, trying to stop his smile from growing more. Ryan continues to move closer until they’re barely inches apart. The younger becomes slightly nervous with the lack of space, not knowing how to perceive it, yet he still feels giddy and happy with a smile still gracing his features, watching the teen beside him.

“Well,” Ryan begins, “if I started it, I guess I’ll end it, too.” he says before bumping shoulders with Brendon, then standing, leaving the dark hair boy laughing softly. Ryan motions towards the door, “C’mon, lets go chill in the living room, my mom is gonna be home soon and she really wants to meet you for some reason.”

“Oh, um, okay. I don’t really see why she would, but okay,” he says, standing and following Ryan back out to the living room. He’s lead over to a dark tan couch and sits down leaning back again a crochet afghan laid over the back. The taller boy positions himself beside him and turns on the TV, the show “Friends” appearing. 

“I figured we could eat, then play Mario Kart or do whatever. Just need to keep it down cause my mom will probably eat then sleep, but I don’t really see you screaming at like 2am or something.” Ryan states.

“Can’t really say for sure since I’ve never really been up doing stuff at 2am exactly,” Brendon confesses.

“That’s totally fine,” Ryan reassures him. “We can sleep whenever you want. As for where, I’m still trying to figure that out. Spence and I usually just bunk together. I mean, We’ve done it since we were in kindergarten, so it’s a bit different. You could always take my bed and I’ll sleep out here or on the floor.”

“No, I mean, you should sleep in your bed. I can sleep out here or on the floor, I don’t mind,” Brendon states.

“But you’re my guest and I’m not letting you sleep on the floor or a rickety old couch. I’d suggest just bunking together, but I don’t want you to do anything that’ll make you uncomfortable.”

Brendon plays with the sleeves of the jacket still engulping him, “We could both sleep on the floor so it's fair, if that’s okay,” he suggests in a soft voice.

“Whichever you’d prefer is fine with me,” Ryan answers.

They fall into a comfortable silence and watch the show, Brendon still playing with the jacket sleeves. Ryan glances over at him, “Are you cold or anything?” 

“Hm?” Brendon responds, somewhat confused.

“Just, you're still wearing the jacket and-” 

Brendon cuts him off and starts to quickly take off the jacket, one arm out, “oh, sorry. You can have it back.”

“No, no,” Ryan says, holding out a hand in emphasis. “I was just asking is all. You can keep wearing it. I mean, looks good on you anyways.”

Brendon looks down and mumbles a soft thanks as he puts the jacket back on and leans into the couch once more, pulling his knees up to his chest and trying to turn his attention back to the show.

As the episode ends, Ryan stands up and stretches, “I'm gonna run to the bathroom real quick. Just holler if you need anything.” He finishes before disappearing down the hall. Brendon takes the time to look around the living area. Picture frames decorate the wall and end tables. The coffee table in front of the couch rests on top of a worn, printed rug of reds and browns. He glances at the TV and consoles underneath, a playstation sits beside the receiver with the cable box on the shelf above.

He directs his attention back to the show and watches as the drama unfolds between the cast, Rachel complaining to Monica about her feelings towards Ross. He tries to get into it, not really knowing the plot line of the program. His attention is pulled away once more as the doorbell rings. He jumps to his feet and looks at the hallway, hoping Ryan would reappear and handle greeting the delivery person, but no such luck happens. He takes a deep breath and approaches the unfamiliar front door. He fiddles with the lock until he could finally pull it open, exposing a tall young man holding the pizza in his arms. Brendon looks up at his face and spots the impatient expression.

“That'll be $16.05,” the delivery man says, the irritation in his voice furthering Brendon's assumption of a foul mood.

The teen goes to reach for his wallet before realizing Ryan has the money. He looks down and points inside, “I don't, um, money…” he stumbles out, the man in the doorway sighs.

“Look kid, just give me the cash so I can get out of here. You do plan on paying, right?”

Brendon nods, knowing he needs to pay. He glances back inside and yells in a shaky voice, “Ryan!” 

Ryan appears around the corner, his hair pushed back a bit, his hands wet. “Oh, pizza's here,’ he says as he speed walks to the door and pulls out his wallet handing over the cash. He then accepts the pizza as the delivery man walks back to his car. He heads back inside and sets the pizza on the table and goes to grab out plates and drinks, “Bren, close the door and come eat.”

Brendon looks out onto the dark street, still a bit shaken up over seemingly nothing, but to him, a nerve racking event. He shuts the door and locks it before scampering to the kitchen and sliding into a chair at the table. Ryan sets a plate in front of him along with a bottle of water before filling his own plate. 

“We can eat in here or the living room, just can't make a mess if we go in there,” he says then takes a bite.

Brendon's eyebrows raise momentarily in judgment, used to saying grace before eating. “Do you, um,” he sees Ryan give him a curious look and cuts himself off. 

“Do I what?” The older teen asks.

Brendon shakes his head, “nothing, nevermind.” He then grabs a couple pieces from the box and rests them on his plate. Ryan turns and goes to the fridge for something. Brendon takes the opportunity to clasp his hands and bows his head, praying to himself in a whisper. As he raised back up, Ryan turns back and the curious look returns, “Did you say something?” 

“No, just talking to myself, sorry,” the dark eyed boy responds. “Can we eat out there?” He asks, pointing to the other side of the room. Ryan simply nods and grabs several napkins, leading the way back to their previous spots. 

 

Ryan balances his plate on his skinny legs as he flips through movie channels, “If you see anything, just stay so.” 

Brendon watches as the titles flash by. Aladdin pops up and he turns to Ryan, “stop.”

“Which one?” He asks, reviewing the screen. 

“Um, Aladdin,” he says softly. “I mean, if you think it's too kiddish or don't like Disney then that's okay, we don't have to watch it.” 

“Are you kidding? Aladdin is fucking awesome. I mean, who wouldn't like a movie about a kid from the streets with a pet monkey and has Robin Williams as his genie? Not to mention, A Whole New World is a classic. “ he justifies as he puts the movie on, finding it close to the beginning.

“Oh, didn't really take you as the Disney liking type,” he says with a soft smile.

“What, I can't wear leather, play hockey and like Disney?” He asks in playful tone.

“Never said that, just surprised is all. I mean, my siblings always made fun of me for still liking Disney, but more importantly, when you said you wear leather, please tell me your jacket is fake,” Brendon says.

“Don't worry,” Ryan says, running a hand over the shiny black fabric. “It's faux, no animals were harmed to my knowledge. And more importantly from what you had said, that's not right. Here, you can like whatever you want, within reason that is, but Disney is not only allowed, but encouraged.”

Brendon finds himself with a soft smile on his lips once more as he continues eating, watching as Aladdin runs through the village with a loaf of bread and enjoys the well know song narrating the scene. 

 

By the time Aladdin his become Prince Ali, there's the sound of a car being locked from outside, soon followed by the jingle of keys in the front door. Ryan grabs the empty plates from the table and rushes to put them in the kitchen sink, making a speedy return as a middle aged woman in sweats walks in. A set of aqua blue scrubs is balled up under one arm, her handbag situated on the opposite shoulder. Ryan walks over to the tired woman and gives her a quick peck on the cheek before taking the purse and scrubs from her hands.

“Hi Mom, how was work?” He asks as he hangs her purse beside the door before heading down the hall to dispose of the scrubs. 

“Tiring,” she states. She looks around the room with a tired expression before her eyes land on Brendon, curled up in the corner of the couch. She strides over, a warm smile spread over her features, making it obvious where Ryan had inherited his own. “You must be Brendon,” she says. “Ryan has told me so much. It's so nice to finally meet you, dear”

“Um, nice to meet you too, Ms.Ross,” Brendon responds back, managing a nervous smile.

“Mom, there's leftover pizza on the stove,” Ryan responds, motioning towards the kitchen. Ms.Ross strides over and gives her soon a kiss on the side of his head. 

“Thank you. Now, don't stay up too late or do anything stupid, understand?” She states.

“Yes, ma'am,” Ryan answer. She gives a nod approval before disappearing into the kitchen. Ryan strides back over to the coach and sits beside Brendon, closer than before.

Brendon watches the kitchen doorway until Ms. Ross reappears and tell them good night before vanishing down the hall followed by the faint sound of a door closing. Brendon directs his attention to the teen beside him. “When she said you talk about me a lot, did she mean that or just saying it to be polite?” 

Ryan looks at him seemingly surprised by the question. He gently clear his throat as he thinks of how to respond, “Well, she wanted to know about you before you came over so I told her some stuff is all.” 

“All good stuff?” Brendon finds himself asking.

“Of course,” Ryan reassures him. “I couldn't shit talk you even if I wanted to, especially to my mom of all people. I mean, there's nothing I could say bad about you anyways.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you could think of a lot, I know I can…” the younger teen trails off.

“Bren,” Ryan says in a serious tone, looking over to Brendon. “I may not know you well, but from what I do know, is that you’re a pretty cool person to be around. Granted, yes you’re nervous and sheltered from a lot, but you’re also endearing and excitable once you’re feeling comfortable. Like for example, while you’ve been over so far, you’ve been pretty bubbly and talkative, which I appreciate.”

Brendon looks down at his lap, “Well, I guess I am comfortable with you,” he quickly tries to correct himself, “I mean here. I’m pretty comfortable here.”

Ryan lets out a soft chuckle, “Well, it’s nice having you around, and I’d like to continue to get to know you better if you’ll allow it.”

The darked eyed boy looks over, “Um, yeah, sure. I’d like that, actually.”

“Well, shall we get the night going? We can finish the movie or play a game or anything really,” Ryan states.

Brendon ponders for a moment, “Can we finish the movie, please? I mean, it’s halfway over already and I haven’t watched it in a while.”

“Yeah, of course we can. Gotta see how it ends, right?” Ryan replies. 

Brendon nods with a small smile and quickly becomes entranced once more in the narrative on screen. He looks away again as Ryan steals the blanket from behind his head with a soft apology, then unfolds it, draping it over their laps. He runs a hand over the soft yarn as A Whole New World begins.

 

As the end credits roll, Brendon has his head propped on his hand, his eyes dropping softly as midnight approaches. He looks to his left slowly after feeling a light tap on his shoulder, being met with a soft expression from Ryan.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” the hazel eyed boy says.

Brendon shakes his head softly then pushes back his stray bangs, “Wasn’t sleeping, just past my bedtime.”

“That’s alright, we could get ready for bed if you want.”

“No, no. I can stay up,” the younger teen says, sitting up more and trying to look more awake.

“If you say so. What do you want to do next then?” Ryan asks.

“Um,” Brendon says as he thinks. “Can I change into pajamas?”

“I’m not going to stop you. Bathroom is down the hall, I’ll change in my room,” Ryan replies, pulling the blanket off them and tossing it onto an armchair nearby. 

Brendon stands and makes his way to Ryan’s bedroom and gathers his clothes and toothbrush before retreating to the bathroom. He sets his things on the counter and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, examining the green and white jacket on his figure. He continues to shift on his feet, looking from different angles, a small smile forming on his lips. He unrolls the sleeves and laughs softly as they cover his hands, waving them around. After a few minutes, he finally unbuttons the front and shrugs it off, hanging it on the back of the bathroom door. He then quickly changes into an old tie dye shirt from a summer bible camp and blue checkered lounge pants, brushes his teeth, and does his business. 

As he washes his hands, he spots the now familiar green in the corner of the mirror and considers slipping it back on once more, missing its soft lining already. He dries his hands and grabs the jacket. He considers the choice for a second, then slips it back on, smiling once again. He gently wraps his arms around his middle, warming himself back up a little. He yawns softly and looks around the small room for a clock. He spots a small digital one in the white medicine cabinet beside the toilet with the red numbers flashing 12:15, well past his bedtime. Feeling the urge to sleep begin to slowly fill his head, he opens the bathroom door and glances down the hall before shutting it once more and kneeling down on the soft blue bath mat in front of the sink. He pushes up the jacket sleeves and puts his hands together and looks down and begins to pray. A soft knock on the door brings him out of his thoughts.

“Bren, you okay?” Ryan asks and knocks once more.

Brendon quickly stumbles to his feet and opens the door revealing Ryan in a worn black band t shirt and black pajama pants with almost bird like emblems on it, “Um, yeah. I’m all good. Sorry.”

Ryan steps back from the door frame and motions Brendon out. Brendon grabs his things and quickly places them back in Ryan’s bedroom. He meets Ryan back in the living room and sits beside him.

“So, do you want to play a game or something?” Ryan asks

“Um, sure. What do you have?” 

“Well, we can play a board game or a video game, I have a few of each.” Ryan replies.

“Um, can we play a video game?” Brendon asks.

“Sure,” Ryan says as he heads over to the shelf beside the TV. “We have Smash Bros, Minecraft, GTA, COD, and, huh. Mario Kart seems to be missing. I know I said we could play it, but it seems to have been misplaced. I’m sorry, Bren.”

“That’s okay. Could we play one that’s kind of easy? I don’t really play a lot of games,” the smaller boy says.

“How about Smash Bros then? Once you get the hang of it, it’s really easy,” Ryan says. Brendon gives a gentle head nod and Ryan inserts the disc and changes over the TV then grabs the controllers and hands on to Brendon. He sets up the game and gets to the character selection screen. Brendon glances at all the characters, most he’s unfamiliar with. Ryan quickly selects a character that reminds him of an elf, supposedly named Link. Brendon quickly goes through the options and finds a familiar dinosaur, Yoshi. 

Ryan scoots closer and shows Brendon where his hands are positioned on the controller and explains what each button does in game. Brendon nods in understand and pushes up his sleeves, ready to try.

“Want me to go easy on you?” Ryan asks.

“Maybe just the first round so I can learn, then you won’t have to cause I’ll kick your butt regardless,” Brendon counters with a playful smirk. 

“Okay, big shot. We’ll see how you do,” he says as he starts the game. 

Brendon tests out the instructions he was told and quickly starts to get the hang of it, landing a few good hits on Ryan’s character. He takes one hand off the controller as his sleeve on the other arm begins to sag. He quickly pushes it back up and continues to play. With Ryan’s agreement to let him get used to the game, Brendon wins the first match.

“Think you got the hang of it now or want another match to practice?” Ryan inquires.

“Nope,” Brendon states with a new air of confidence. “I’m ready to win fair and square.”

“Whatever you say, Brenny,” Ryan says teasingly as he begins the next match.

Brendon lets out an assumed smile at the nickname, but quickly snaps into competition mode, wanting badly to beat Ryan. He smashed buttons, unsure of what exactly he’s doing and is taking the lead until the need to push up his sleeves again arises. He tries to quickly fix it, but in the few seconds it takes, Ryan has landed the last blows needed, securing him the first round. Round two starts off much the same with Brendon smash buttons. Ryan gives a quick side glance at Brendon’s controller, “No fair, you’re just jamming buttons. There’s no strategy in that.”

“Don’t need a strategy, just gotta beat you,” Brendon explains as he gives the final blow, gaining himself his first round. 

Round three has a rocky beginning as both of the dark eyed boy’s sleeves fall with his intense movements of the controller. He tries to quickly situate the material on his forearms and continue playing, but is unsuccessful. Ryan glances over once more after see the lack of movement from Brendon’s character. He sees the teen beside him struggling with his sleeves and pauses the game. 

Ryan sets his own controller down and gently grabs Brendon’s wrist, “Let me help with that,” he says as he begins to precisely fold the sleeves like he had earlier in the car. Brendon watches his long fingers at work, feeling a tingly warmth from his fingers as they brush against his arm. Ryan then grabs his other wrist and repeats the action.

“I could have done it,” Brendon states, still looking down at the now symmetrically folded fabric, his cheeks sporting a delicate pink from the unexpected assistance. They return to the game, Brendon losing the current round from a somewhat clouded head space. 

They go on to play multiple more matches, Brendon winning a total of three, which Ryan reassures him is not bad at all for his first time. As Ryan turns off the game, the younger teen seated on the couch yawns and leans back, his eyelids drooping slightly. 

“Someone’s tired,” Ryan says as he sits back down.

“Not me,” Brendon responds lazily. 

“Sure you’re not. Be right back,” Ryan says and goes over to a closet beside the kitchen. Brendon watches closely as Ryan piles multiple blankets and decorate pillows on his scrawny arms, and drops them onto the couch. 

“I know we agreed to both sleep on the floor, but you’re taking the couch,” Ryan states as he begins to divide up the bedding. He creates a makeshift bed for himself on the ground beside the couch and then helps Brendon arrange himself on the couch. Ryan takes the blankets set aside for Brendon and casually lays them over the sleepy teen. He then turns the TV to a quiet roar and turns off the lights throughout the house before laying down.

Brendon shifts so he can see Ryan on the floor beside him, “Ryan,” he says. “I’m not tired yet.”

Ryan turns and looks up at Brendon, “Well, then we can talk or watch TV until you are.”

“Okay. Um, I have a question. When they tie dye stuff,” He pulls on the collar of his tie dye shirt for emphasis, “Why doesn’t it turn all gross looking?”

“Well,” Ryan begins. “I’m not completely sure since I’ve never done it before.”

“Really?” Brendon asks, sounding surprised. “I help little kids all the time at church camps do it, it’s really fun. Next time, you should come with,” he yawns then rubs his eyes.

“Maybe,” Ryan replies. “Not super fond of church or kids, but if you really want to teach me, we’ll see.”

Brendon smiles brightly and drapes an arm over his eyes, “Ry, quick, tell me the weirdest fact you know.” 

Ryan chuckles softly at the request, “So, you can easily get a light bulb in your mouth, but you can’t get it back out without breaking.”

“Ew, glass in the mouth would hurt. You better hope I don’t have a nightmare, Ryan. Why do you even know that?” Brendon groggily complains.

“That’s all Spencer’s fault, he tells me weird things all the time,” Ryan justifies as he continues to watch Brendon. With no reply, he hears the teen on couch’s breathes begin to even out as he falls asleep. Ryan gets as comfortable as he can on the ground and soon follows suit and drifts to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Ryan opens his eyes and looks around at the dimly lit room, the TV now displaying an infomercial for a kitchen pan. He sits up and turns his attention to the still sleeping boy on the couch. 

Brendon snores softly, one arm hanging off the side of the couch, the other cuddling the pillow up against his face. Ryan watches him for a moment, just observing how peaceful he looks. The teen checks the time, 8:44, and rises to his feet. He stretches and cracks his back, shaking off the discomfort from the hard floor. The lanky teen wanders into the kitchen and glances in the fridge and cabinets before hearing rustling from down the hall, indicating his mother is getting ready for work. He then finds himself pulling out a carton of eggs, butter, and a small skillet. He greases the pan and lets it heat before adding the eggs to the skillet and mixing them around as they cook. 

He retrieves a plate from the cabinet, sets it at the table, and pours the eggs onto the plate as his mother walks in wearing fresh scrubs.

“What are you doing up already?” she asks in a whisper.

He shrugs softly and leans against the counter, “Woke up is all, the floor isn't exactly soft. Figured I'd make you eggs once I heard you up.”

She nods in understanding and looks at the fresh yellow lumps in front of her and smiles, “you're too good.” She sits and begins to eat, looking up at Ryan. “How'd the night go?” She asks. 

“I think it all went pretty good, I mean, I had fun and I hope he did too,” the teen replies. 

“Did you end up staying up late?”

“Kind of, until like 1ish. It's obvious he hasn't stayed up late before cause he was getting all loopy by the time we went to bed. I mean, he's sleeping like a rock still.” He answers as he grabs a water bottle from the fridge and takes a sip.

“Sounds like fun. I'm just glad you have another friend besides Spencer now that you like enough to bring home. I mean, I haven't even met anyone you dated before, but then you just walts in with this cute guy.” She says in an almost teasing way.

“Mom, first, please don't call him cute. It's weird when you say it. Secondly, I feel you're implying something and I don't like it. Brendon is a friend, that's all. We just kinda clicked when we started talking and wanted to hang out, so I invite him over to do friend things,” Ryan states defensively. 

“Your over use of the word friend says otherwise, dear,” she says, cleaning up from breakfast. “I gotta get going. Be good, don't burn the house down.” She then pats him on the head and exits out the door.

Ryan sighs and glances back into the living room and sees that Brendon has changed his position, now curled up more around the pillow. He turns back into the kitchen and fishes in the low cabinets for the waffle maker. He set it on the counter and gets to work on mixing together the batter.

 

Brendon wakes up to the smell of something sweet coming from the kitchen. He sits up and stretches, looking around for Ryan as he lets out a yawn. Ryan appears in the doorway, “Nice to see you're awake, breakfast is almost done.” 

Brendon turns to face him and flashes a smile and rubs his eyes, “You made breakfast? You didn't need to.”

“Well, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, supposedly. Plus, it's not hard to get right. Now, cmon, waffles aren't any good cold.” Ryan says.

Brendon happily gets off the couch and heads into the kitchen. Ryan follows behind and lets out a soft laugh. Brendon turns towards him, “What's funny?” 

“Nothing, you just have a bit of bed head,” he says as he moves over to the waffle iron and adding a fresh waffle to the golden stack on the counter. He adds more batter then turns back around to see Brendon attempting to smooth out his unruly hair.

“Bren, you don't have to fix it, it's a good look,” Ryan says playfully.

“Yeah, but I don't like it,” Brendon pouts as he sits down at the table. 

“Good thing I like it, then. You like orange juice?” Ryan asks as he pulls out two glasses.

Brendon nods and looks down, finding that he had in fact, forgotten to take Ryan's jacket off before heading to sleep. He's snapped out of his embarrassed gaze as a full plate of waffles and a glass of orange juice in placed in front of him. He decides to shrug off the jacket and begins to garnish his stack of waffles with copious amounts of butter and syrup before diving in as Ryan takes the seat across from him.

“Wow, these are good,” Brendon says as he takes another bite.

“Well, the mix is from a box so I can't take too much credit, but thanks. Glad you like them,” Ryan replies as he begins to eat his own.

They float into a comfortable silence as they eat, exchanging soft glances with small smiles. The quiet comes to an end as Brendon splashes syrup on himself, ending up across his cheek. He laughs and grabs a napkin to clean the spot and laughs harder as it sticks slightly to his face before falling into his lap. Ryan's eyes crinkle a little as he joins in with a soft roar of laughter erupts, creating a soft harmony of amusement between them.

As Brendon finally calms down, he cleans himself up and finishes his food before placing his plate in the sink. “What can I do to help clean up?” He asks.

Ryan turns to him and has the soft smile on his features on once more, the one Brendon is starting to find extremely endearing, “you're not helping clean up. You're a guest.”

“It's not like you'd be forcing me, plus I want to help. You made all this and then you'd have to clean it up alone if I don't help and just sit and watch then it would be boring, so please can I help you?” Brendon practically begs, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Fine,” Ryan sighs. “But you're just drying dishes, nothing else.” He then places his plate in the sink then ventures quickly into the livingroom and returns with his phone, turning on a smooth playlist of songs from the 60s and 70s.

“Is this hippie music?” Brendon asks as he finds a dish rag and flings it around in a circle.

“Yup. Nothing like the sounds of free love and no showering in the morning,” he replies with a smile as he grabs a sponge and adds some blue dish soap to it. He runs it under the water and rubs it together, the white suds spilling out as he begins washing. 

Brendon tapes his socked foot on the tile and dances his fingertips on the counter, liking the sound and groove of the music. They begin a simple system of Ryan washing and rinsing before passim the dishes to Brendon who dries it thoroughly and adds it to a pile. 

He begins tapping once again, watching Ryan as he works. He continues to watch him and quickly jumps up to seat himself on the counter, swinging his legs as he waits for the next dish to be handed over. Ryan turns to him and shakes his head in an amused fashion at seeing Brendon perched beside the sink. Brendon gives him an innocent look as he plucks the plate from his hand and begins drying it.

They continue the dishes, nearing the final plate as Across the Universe by The Beatles begins to play. Ryan lets out a sigh of peace as he drains the sink. Brendon watches him and listens closely to the song, finding the lyrics intricate and complex, yet beautiful sounding. He hops off the counter and waves the wet rag in hand back and forth with the music. He twirls around, the rag like a ribbon, flowing in a somewhat graceful manner. 

Ryan watches him dance around and slide on the tile, finding himself enjoying Brendon's interpretive dance to a song that brings him much peace. With the final notes, Brendon gives a small bow and Ryan gives him a short round of applause, leaving Brendon with a bright smile and cheeks frosted with pink.

“I liked that song, it was really pretty. What's it called?” Brendon inquires.

“That was Across the Universe by The Beatles. It's a classic really, intricate wording and simple chords combining to make a masterpiece,” Ryan explains. 

Brendon nods, “It was like trippy, but calm and awesome and the guy singing it had such a cool voice.” He beams for a second before slipping into an episode of exhibiting a shy expression as he ponders a question, looking down at the ground, “could we, maybe, um, listen to more of The Beatles? I've heard of them before, but only heard like two songs cause my parents didn't want me listening to stuff about drugs or the hippie movements, so I don't know a lot, but from what I heard, I like it a lot and wanna hear more I mean, if you don't want to then we don't have to-” he's cut off unexpectedly as Ryan laughs softly and steps forward, and pats his shoulder lightly.

“Bren, you have no idea how happy I would be to introduce you to The Beatles, “ the taller boy says with excitement lacing his voice. 

“Really?” The smaller brunette asks as he look up at Ryan. Ryan simple nods and smiles more.

“Really. I'll finish up in here, you can get dressed or anything if you want. I don't really know what time you need to be home, but we can probably listen through an album or two depending,” Ryan says, moving to wipe off the counter.

“Okay, I'll call my mom and ask real quick,” Brendon announces. He goes off into the living room and grabs his phone, sitting down on the edge of the couch and presses his mom's contact, bringing it up to his ear and listening to it ring.

Finally, he hears an irritated hello from the other end, “hi Mom. Um, what time do you want me home?” he asks in a small voice.

He hears a sign and a moment of silence, “I don't know, just soon. No later than noon. You have study tonight and church tomorrow morning and you're not missing either.”

“Oh, okay,” his voice dropping at bit, now remembering his later forced activities. “Can you call when you're coming to get me, please?” 

“Brendon, I really don't want to come get you. Can't your friend just drive you home? He had no problem carting you around last night.” Mrs. Urie huffs.

Brendon swallows and glances towards the kitchen, seeing Ryan walk past a bit as he cleans off the table. He lowers his phone and covers the microphone with his hand. 

“Um, Ryan?” 

Ryan pops his head from around the corner, “Yeah, what's up?” 

“Could you maybe please give me a ride home later?” He asks softly. He looks up and is met with a nod and an understanding smile.

“Of course. Just let me know when,” the older replies before continuing cleaning. 

Brendon brings the phone back up to his ear, “Mom?” He hears a small hum, signaling his mother is still on the line. “He can drive me. I'll, um, call you when I'm on my way home. Love you.” He waits for his mother to reciprocate the goodbye, but instead, just hears the line go dead. 

He looks down and hangs up his cell, then places it on the couch beside him. He shakes himself off and forces a small smile before heading back into the kitchen. He leans against the doorframe and watches as Ryan tries to get the waffle iron back into a cabinet, muttering softly to himself out of frustration as it won’t fit. He pulls out a few things then shoves the iron in and does a small fist bump in the air in triumph, causing Brendon to laugh softly. Ryan turns to him, trying to act nonchalant as he quickly throws everything back in the cabinet and stands, “thought you were going to get dressed, too?” 

Brendon looks down and discovers he’s still in his lounge pants and tie dyed shirt. “I’ll go do that. I kinda forgot.” 

“Meet me in my room and we can get to it, okay?” Ryan says.

Brendon happily nods and makes his way to the bathroom and quickly changes into baggy jeans and a grey t shirt. He brushes his teeth and tries to sort out his hair, then makes his way down the hall and enters Ryan’s room. He sits down on the bed and watches Ryan fiddle around with a record player on top of his dresser. The older turns towards Brendon and holds up an album the reads “Please Please Me”. He takes the black vinyl from the sleeve and sets it down on the turntable. 

“March 22, 1963, “Please Please Me” is released, sparking the very beginning of a fanomana that will be coined as Beatlemania by the end of the 60s that will sweep across the world and influence millions. You ready for this?” he asks as he positions the needle on the turntable.

Brendon nods and smiles, bringing his legs up and hugs them to his chest. Ryan puts the needle down and crackling fills the air before the first song of the album begins. As “I Saw Her Standing There” plays, the curly haired boy strolls over to the bed and plops down next to Brendon and watches his somewhat confused expression, obvious that he doesn’t know what to do. Ryan gently pushes him to lay down and occupies the space beside him. 

“Just close your eyes and listen if you want, or you can just relax and feel the music. Tap your foot on the bed or do anything that feels right, feel the music,” Ryan says softly, meeting the younger teen’s curious gaze. Brendon watches as Ryan closes his eyes with a smile, soon repeating the action, zoning in on the record. 

Brendon finds himself happily listening, Ryan beside him. He hears a few crackles as the title track finishes, followed by feeling Ryan get up from the bed to flip the record. Soon music is filling the room again and the weight to his right has returned. He feels Ryan shift, presumably on his side. He rolls over himself and continues to take in the music.

As the now familiar crackle returns, Brendon opens his eyes and finds himself face to face with hazel eyes and what can only be described as a nervous smile. 

“So, what did you think?” Ryan asks. 

Brendon ponders for a second, “I liked it. It was cool, all the songs go together, but all sound a bit different and tell different little stories, plus they just sound so nice and rhythmic even though they seem simple in like, music terms and stuff. I think i might be affected by Beatlemania already.” 

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed, especially since there’s a lot more albums. No pressure though, if you’re really interested, there’s no rush at all.” Ryan replies.

“Can we maybe listen to the next one, please?” Brendon asks.

“I’m not sure. Depends what time you need to be home.”

“My mom said noon at the latest.” He glances over his shoulder and finds a small digital alarm clock on the table beside the bed. The smaller brunette turns back, a small pout and large ‘puppy eyes’ on display, “It’s only eleven, so please Ry?”

Ryan chuckles softly and props himself up on his elbow, “you really expect me to say no to a face like that?” 

Brendon just continues to stare, blinking slowly to add to his gaze. Ryan rolls his eyes and gets up from the bed. He goes over to the turntable and slips the vinyl back into the sleeve and places it back with the rest before pulling out a new album. He holds it up and turns to Brendon.

“You can quit your pouting because it’s time to head back to April 10, 1964 with “The Beatles’ Second Album”. Personally, appreciate and simultaneously hate the over simplified name, but the album is good,” He explains, setting it down and placing the needle, the music begins as Ryan lays back down besides Brendon and props himself up again. The older teen watches Brendon continue to look at him, the previous pout no longer present and replaced with curiosity.

“Bren, relax again. Close your eyes if you need,” Ryan says.

“You weren’t doing it, I caught you staring at me,” Brendon counters.

“Well, when I came back after flipping the record, you looked so happy and relaxed, so I watched your face. Is that so bad?” 

Brendon gives him a playful, yet serious look and brings a finger up to his lips, “Shhhh, I’m listening to The Beatles.”

Ryan rolls his eyes and smiles before laying back down, arms behind his head. Brendon looks up at the ceiling and moves his head back and forth to the rhythm, enjoying himself quite a lot.

Soon, the listening sessions comes to an end as Ryan puts the record away and Brendon sits up to stretch. Ryan sits back down across from his and pulls out his phone and glances at the time.

“Sorry to say, but it’s almost noon and I really don’t want to you get into trouble with your mom and never be allowed over again,” Ryan states.

Brendon frowns softly in disappointment, “do I have to? I’d rather be lectured by my mom and stay a bit longer, but if you insist. Besides, she’ll probably yell and interrogate you if you drop me off late. She did it to my friend Jon once and honestly, I think that was the first and only time I’ve ever seen him scared.”

“Yeah, I don’t do well with angry parents, so lets not go that route unless we have to.” Ryan responds before patting the smaller teen’s knee, “Besides, we’re technically still hanging out until you leave my presence.” 

“I guess you’re right,” Brendon agrees, a more cheerful expression coming back. He slides off the bed and lands on his knees before rolling on his side over to the door. Ryan shakes his head and stands as Brendon gathers his things and wiggles on his shoes by the front door. 

Ryan puts on his own shoes grabs his keys and leads the way out to his car.. They each climb into their respective sides before Ryan ejects the CD from the port and puts in a mixed CD of 90s and early 2000s pop punk, leading them to soon be comfortably cruising down suburban street, Brendon trying to tap the drum line of the current song onto his thigh, finding the tempos and pace different than anything he’s ever really played before for fun, but a bit closer to the occasional song performed for band. 

The song ends and another begins along with a soft rhythmic hum to his left. Brendon looks over and finds Ryan humming along with the song, even quietly singing a few lines. The dark brunette finds himself a bit giddy just listening to the teen beside him, seemingly comfortable enough to reveal even the tiniest bit of something people usually keep secretive. He considers complimenting Ryan, but decides against it, not wanting to make the drive awkward in the slightest.

“Um, what’s the name of this song?” Brendon asks.

“Oh, it’s called “Dead on Arrival” by a band called Fall Out Boy. Why do you ask?” Ryan responds.

“Was just wondering. It’s cool, just different from music I’ve heard is all.”

“I get it, not everyone likes pop punk. You ever just aren’t vibing with a song or in the mood for something else, just gotta say so,” Ryan says, stopping at a stop sign before continuing on.

Brendon silently nods before looking out the windshield and considers other topics of conversation. 

“Um, is driving hard?” he blurts out.

Ryan sticks his tongue out and quickly licks his lips as he comes up with answer, “Well, it’s not exactly hard per say, just takes a lot of focus. Sure it’s kind of scary to be in a metal contraption doing at least 20 miles and hour at any time, but once you get the hang of it, it’s not as scary or hard as it looks. Does that answer your question?” Ryan says.

“Um, yeah, it does. Thanks.” Brendon replies.

“Have you never drove before?” Ryan asks.

Brendon plays with the bottom of his shirt, “No, I haven’t, actually. Haven’t even tried to get my permit. Guess I’m just too scared and anxious to actually drive,” he admits.

“Hey, no reason to get down on yourself. There’s tons of kids our age that don’t, plus you can start trying whenever you want really, just need to get your permit and you can start.” Ryan reassures him.

“I guess that’s true,” Brendon responds.

Ryan pulls in front of Brendon’s house and turns to the teen in the passenger seat, “Don’t think too much into it, you’ll do it in your own time. And if that time never comes, bikes, public transportation, and carpooling is always an option,” he says, turning up the corners of his mouth.

Brendon sighs and nods softly, “yeah, you’re right.”

“Damn right I am. Now, I’m not kicking you out of my car, but you better go before your mom kicks my butt,” Ryan says playfully and unlocks the doors.

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” Brendon says and exits the car, giving a small wave.

“Thanks for coming over, hope you had a good time.”

“Believe me, I did. Thank you for having me over,” Brendon says was a grateful smile.

“Anytime, now go,” Ryan tells him while half heartedly using his hand to direct him towards the house.

Brendon gives a final wave as he shuts the door and runs up to the house. He rings the bell and is soon greeted by his mother. He says a quick hello before making his way to his bedroom. He throws his bag to the floor and flops face first onto his bed, mentally preparing himself for his church study session awaiting later in the afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being extremely difficult to write for some reason and that's particularly why it took so long, so my apologize.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and as always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated


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